


Black Coffee

by GingerLyoness



Category: The Hour
Genre: 1930s, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Post-Series, Pre-Series, Spain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 13:45:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerLyoness/pseuds/GingerLyoness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two very different instances in which Lix and Randall end up drinking coffee together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> 'ividicus' sent me a prompt on tumblr, which said 'Lix/Randall, coffee'. So, I sincerely hope this passed muster.

“Didn’t know you liked coffee,” he says as he moves across the room towards her, camera in hand, tie crooked and still covered in the dust and debris from the bombing that had occurred earlier in the afternoon.

“Well, perhaps that’s because you barely know me, Mr. Brown,” the younger woman replied, “you might want to fix your tie before Harris sees you, we all know what he’s like with being tidy.”

The man looks down, looking agitated as he adjusts his tie underneath the pin, not being able to help aligning the camera with the edge of the table as he places it down.

He sits down opposite her, looking curiously at the papers she is so focused on, “what are you working on?”

“Drinking coffee and reading. You, however, don’t seem to be doing anything to aid getting any articles about the current situation to the rest of the world at all,” she snapped, taking a deliberate sip of the steaming black drink.

This sort of interaction between the two was commonplace - having been partnered up for various different research endeavours and stories, the woman had become somewhat sick of spending her time with him, seeing as he was hardly what she would call exciting.

“I think I’ll just-“

“You think you’ll just  _what_?” her voice bites at the question, the woman obviously at the end of her tether as the day reached its end.

“Go. I think I’ll just go,” he replies, picking up his camera with a sigh. Despite his tries, he still wasn’t getting anywhere in making friends with her. Perhaps he never would. But how was he to know?

-

Twenty years later, the pair sits at the breakfast table in his flat, coffee in front of both of them as the morning light breaks through the blinds, the cold biting as the heating remains broken.

The past few hours have been a blur: their daughter is dead, her colleague-turned-unrelated-son has almost bled to death on the front lawn of Lime Grove Studios and they have had to try to reconcile with each other and fix their broken relationship.

As they sat there, he taps the table repeatedly, before she reaches out to stop him, moving to sit on the chair beside him as she takes his hand in hers, kissing his temple gently as they sit in silence, bitter coffee forgotten as they become lost in their thoughts.


End file.
